these little spirits that we make
and unfold with such
delicacy and wonder
have only to be held
in ardently cupped
and edifying hands
surrendering their growing light
to seep between our fingers
as they weave their threads
like curious vines
to find their own
sun drenched hills

it is the day of sighs
time to purge cankerous pains
and wander down cathedralled paths
un-hook those cloud filled sacks
leave them swaying in the trees
teased by a quickening wind
that stirs the sweetly
brackened breath of the wood
and black cloth covered eyes
are brightened by a glittering
painterly sun

a primordial bird once told me
of his dreamtime

that helped him soar
catching rivers of wind

that weaved around the world
and he saw the salmon spawn

with journeys back to the
tickle of their pebbled streams

he mused the air with migrant geese
plumbed the depths of the whale

searched the secrets of lights
and ice in the north

and he never had to question
why he flew

always she turns
our lidless lambent orb
our pebble smoothed rock
untethered in a noiseless night
purling weightless with the stars

our halcyon mother
wakes to this new dawn
feeling her seed has soured
her waters not so sweet
in a muddied turn of the tide

but her drift through time
with a billion other brilliances
holds endless transformations
a turn of new pages
a shine of new light